When an artistically inclined scientific mind, dealing with moderate psychosis and a penchant for cynical jocularity, decides to seriously work with tarot.

What could go wrong?

I planned for this in hesitant excitement. (I was still young and wanted to test the waters on life & my sanity). Also, my background culture is a bit steeped in mysticism so, mimicking my great grandmother in “fortune telling” kinda tipped this whole experiment into action. Supposedly she had what I have.

Here we go… I had spent six months carrying around a gifted “unused” tarot deck. Cleansing it every few days with sage and an old Romani ritual. I only slept with it on the weekends when I wasn’t working or studying. Then, when I was ready. Pulled my first read… wait…

Let me back peddle a smidge. I thought it would go more interesting if I hadn’t taken my meds the night before. I then waited the next afternoon (on the weekend), to get the full crazy town effect. You see, when you suffer from visual, auditory, and tactile hallucinations; one has a tendency to get used to normal reality after taking the meds that ACTUALLY work; without getting you sick. Also, when one doesn’t drink alcohol (or partake in recreational drugs *meds don’t mix*), or HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE; boredom seems to be all encompassing. Eight times out of ten, you are struggling to try and find something interesting to occupy your free time… ok…

It was a traditional seven card horseshoe spread. I had my journal ready to record my reading, and I took a Polaroid of the spread (just incase the cards turned into moths or something stupid). Then I hit the tape recorder’s record button. I thought it would be a good idea to talk out the reading just incase my writing did its weird indecipherable chicken scratch thing (found this out in high school when I turned in a few papers ‘while off my meds’ for in-class work. Received a few F’s because it looked like a one year old got a hold of everything. The trip to the principle’s office wasn’t a vacation either.). Well…

What transpired was a depressing $#!+show. At the beginning I swore a lot and dictated that all the cards were blank. Even the ones unused in the deck. Then after a stint of rustling around (no clue what I was doing) I started talking to the tarot deck. Again, I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember anything of the rest of the day after I woke up. Since apparently I decided to leave and buy a bottle of scotch after I stopped recording on the cassette tape (the entire empty bottle was in bed with me the next morning). From the one sided conversation I did compile (the notebook was a bust of course), I ended up naming the deck. I am guessing it told me to draw cards from the unused stack to spell out the name in Greek. Using the standard Hebrew correspondence letters that each card represents. I even succeeded in taking a picture of ‘that pull’ as well. (I had to translate the Hebrew letters to Greek later on to get the name)

The rest was a jumble of yes’s and no’s with a discussion about my life choices in theater and film (I wanted to make movies for a stint in my childhood). There was also a random weird comment I made about distilling pancake batter. I remember listening to the tape over and over thinking I WAS A COMPLETE LUNITIC (hoping no one would ever happen to listen to this crap). Now at this point in my life, I am kinda curious if I still have the cassette tapes in storage. I did have a crap ton of other moments I recorded doing other things off my meds

side note: My ‘shrink’ was not impressed with my “off the book” therapy ventures.

Suffice to say I found out that the name I picked “Baubo” (Hebrew: Beth, Aleph, Kaph, Beth, ‘Ayin. Greek: Beta, Alpha, Upsilon, Beta, Omega.) spelled out an actual Greek god. I haven’t touched the deck ever since. Though I keep it in an oak/ash box with dried flowers buried in storage somewhere…

Do you think it’s haunted?

The reading itself (translated when I was back on my meds) turned out pretty true. For the most part anyway. (“You will fall into the public eye to reach your heart’s desire. Then move on to other things of interest”) The whole experience creeped me out far too much to continue with the daily reading habit I had planned. Just not comfortable using a tarot deck with the name of a Greek god. I’ve read all the stories.

That being said. It’s been about 20 years and I do have a nice “pretty deck” that hasn’t been used yet. Maybe I’ll start up an instagram feed and do a weekly pull. But not without my meds of course… No telling how intense that old neglected deck would be if I ever started using it.

It’s totally haunted… probably.

No. Im not superstitious.

You’re superstitious.

… 😉

Well, maybe I am a little. 🙃